He asked me if I liked what I did. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Yes," but due to the mind control I was under I was unable to really think about his question. He told me he loved the young ones, "…beautiful little lady." He liked to kiss open mouth but he tasted yucky like cigars. His private parts smelled, too. But then there was the cologne to cover up the smell. He was pretty fat from my perception, but big and tall. Lyndon had a medium to small penis for his big body, but he said he used it well. He wasn't really hairy and the hair on his head was thinning. He used something like Vitalis on what was left of his hair when he combed it. I think maybe that is why he kept his cowboy hat on all the time, even in bed.

I usually slept all night with him because he wanted me to. He slept really close and held on to me. I spent the night and then in the morning I was taken home. When I was in the 10 " grade, I spent the night with him more often — even sometimes on school nights. I didn't go to school until 11:30 a.m. anyway and no one could ever seem to tell I had been gone. Sometimes I missed a full day of school and no one at Hale or Taft High ever said anything to me. Another form of trauma was added when one day after school, I was forced to watch as the men in suits roughed up my junior high school principal.

I was taken to the White House to be with Lyndon. One night he told me all about this lady named Agnes who he loved before Lady B. That's what he called his wife, "Lady B," instead of Lady Bird. He said he never got over Agnes, just couldn't forget her. He said Lady B fit into his future plans and worked out better but that he just really loved Agnes. When he talked about Agnes he had a goofy faraway look on his face.

Lyndon told me his wife had grown to act old early on in their marriage when something of a maternal nature happened to upset her. He said from then on she wasn't much for sex, so he took care of his needs elsewhere. He told me so much personal stuff that I think he must have forgotten how young I was. A lot of what he told me I didn't really understand. But I listened, apparently to his satisfaction, because one day he complimented me by saying, "You are a very good listener, young lady."

Lyndon also liked for me to cuddle on his lap while he fondled me in an armchair as he watched TV. He usually covered me with a blanket. It made it more secretive and he pretended people were present in the room with us watching but they didn't know what we were doing. Then he would ask me if I liked it.

I would smile and was programmed to say, "of course," or, "do more," or, "you're so big." He loved it all. I wore Unforgettable perfume with him. It was pungent and strong but he liked it. He especially liked sex when I was menstruating — he said it turned him on. He liked to do all sorts of perverted things to me during that time, which I don't feel comfortable sharing here. He also suggested that I do whatever I usually did for the cameras and take charge of our sexual activity. "You're in charge of the whoring, little lady," he would say as he smiled and tipped his hat. That hat was such an important thing to him.

He talked to me a lot and told me all kinds of stories over the time he was President. He liked for me to call him "Prez." He said when I called him Lyndon it made him feel guilty about Lady B so he said to call him Prez and I did as he commanded.

Sometimes he wore those dumb elastic things to hold his socks up like Bob (Hope) did. He looked so ridiculous wearing those dumb socks, his boxers and his hat, while he sat and smoked. He must not have cared what he looked like. The room was always kept pretty dark. He said he was most comfortable like that, but my eyes would adjust to the dark and I could still see how silly he looked. The teen personality programmed to be with him during those times was respectful and performed as her programming dictated, but through her teenage eyes, felt he was just a dork.

I did things that made him laugh. They were really dumb things but he seemed to like them. Like once I pulled my hair over and around and onto my upper lip and scrunched my lip up, pinching the hair under my nose to make it look like a mustache. Silly things made him laugh.

He tested my programmed capabilities. He burned me with a cigar one time, because he said he was told to try it to see what happened. He looked pretty amazed when I took off my clothes, sat down, got into position and told him to go ahead and stick it in, that it wouldn't burn me. So he pressed his cigar to my vagina and it didn't burn me. The pain didn't even register — "it didn't even hurt," is what I told him. That made him turned on and he said, "Little lady, you give me a big boner." He told me there was an endless stream of young ladies who liked his "big boner."

He liked the song that goes, "I'm a long tall Texan, and wear a 10 gallon hat." He also liked Born Free and Burt Bacharach's Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head and Blue, Blue, My World is Blue. He also liked hot dogs and hamburgers, but hot dogs best. And he told me he liked dachshunds, those little wiener dogs. I often felt like a dog with him because he was always patting my head. I joked with him about it and started barking when he patted me. I could really get off-the-wall with him and he seemed to love it. He laughed and laughed like Nixon and Reagan did at the silly things I was programmed to say and do. I don't know if he was aware that I had been programmed with most of the jokes.

The men in suits usually took me to him at a hotel. They put me in the room to wait for him. I'd say the suits were the Mob, but Secret Service agents waited outside the door once the Prez got there.

Once we were alone I was programmed to say, "Hey Prez, got a big boner for my little pussy today?" He would get all excited and start kissing and licking me. Yuck, it was gross. But it was the saddle shoes that really got him every time. He liked me to wear my school-type clothes and so I did. I was helicoptered from somewhere near Woodland Hills. Usually I was not flown in on a big commercial airline to see Lyndon. I don't know why but it was usually private planes. Then I would sleep with him all night and be flown back to California. There were times when, after I was used, the men in suits would let me out of the car near school and I would have my school clothes on from the day before, and I would just walk to school and go in like nothing had ever happened.

One time when I was sent to Lyndon, somehow I ended up wearing the St. Christopher metal that my programmed boyfriend Craig had given me for going steady. The men in suits would have normally taken away any personal item of this nature, but for some reason they missed my necklace this time. Johnson examined it and asked me what it was. Unable to think to lie, I told him it was a necklace my boyfriend gave me. Immediately he looked depressed. So I climbed into his lap and told him not to worry that my boyfriend couldn't hold a candle to him and that I was forced to be with my boyfriend, but that I choose to be with him. He smiled, pulled his hat down over his face, and leaned back in his chair ordering, "a blow job a-la-carte." So I performed as commanded. He said most women didn't love it the way I did.

Lyndon thought Texans were the best and most powerful type of men. I was taken to Texas to be used sexually by the Prez at a cabin or ranch out in the middle of nowhere. It had fences and horses and a woodcabin type house, but there were hardly any trees or greenery, like in California. The cabin was wood inside and he had a lamp that was made out of a bootleg. He loved it and I teased him about it, "Who's leg ya' got there holding up that light?" On a table there was a picture of Lady B that had been taken at the Ranch. We had sex there on occasion, because, as he explained, it was a place he could go and not be seen or bothered by anyone. The Secret Service could guard him well there since there was nothing else around and no one had any business going there unless they knew LBJ and had been invited. Despite the security there, LBJ often wore a small gun strapped to his leg by his boot. He said he enjoyed carrying it. He waltzed me back to his room, to the bed he shared with his wife. He said, "By sleeping here with you, when I'm f- king the little lady, you can bet I'll be thinkin' of you."